


If Only

by fuzzballsheltiepants



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, M/M, Smut, mildly nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 08:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12722877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzballsheltiepants/pseuds/fuzzballsheltiepants
Summary: The night before Andras leaves for the human lands





	If Only

Lucien throws the door open hard enough that it crashes into the wall. Andras freezes for just a split second before resuming the careful polishing of his knives.

“You’re going tomorrow, aren’t you.” It isn’t a question.

Andras merely nods, not taking his attention away from the blade in his hands.

“Why?”

“Because it is my duty,” he says, his low voice infuriatingly calm.

“Fuck duty,” Lucien snarls. “Why does it have to be you?”

Now Andras turns those golden eyes to him. “Would you have me condemn another instead? There are but a dozen of us left. Who would you have me send to death in my place?”

Lucien’s russet eye burns, and his voice breaks. “I should go.”

Andras rises slowly to his feet and prowls over to him, his gait as smooth as the wolf he will become. He cups Lucien’s face in his hands. “You are more valuable alive than dead.”

“So are you.” It is only a whisper, but Andras shakes his head.

“Do not deny me this,” he says, holding his gaze, though his thumb brushes the tears from Lucien’s cheek. “It is either face death now, knowing it may bring freedom to my Court, to those I love, or face death in a few months Under the Mountain. Let me do my part to save us.”

Though his chest is caving in, though he knows he cannot bear this, Lucien closes his eyes and nods. Then Andras’s mouth is on his, and he responds fiercely, not caring about the pain from the clash of teeth and lips. He wraps his arms around him, crushing their bodies together, and then they’re moving, pulling at each others’ clothes, stumbling into the chair and then over the trunk of weapons before Lucien’s legs hit the bed and he falls backwards, pulling Andras on top of him. How many nights have they spent like this? So many. Not enough. Not since his family had slaughtered Jesminda has he felt so safe, so close to whole, as with this male. He will not think of what the morning will bring, he decides, as Andras’s mouth makes its way down his body. There is only now.

*****

It is the sudden absence of noise that wakes Lucien in the cold gray light before dawn. He keeps his eyes closed, face pressed into the pillow, hands curled into his chest. If only he doesn’t move, Andras is still laying beside him, that scent that envelops him is still fresh. If only he doesn’t move, the feel of Andras thrusting into him, one broad hand digging into his shoulder while the other strokes him to completion, is no trick of the memory but is really happening. If only he doesn’t move, the taste of Andras on his tongue will never leave him.

It is Andras’s whispered, “I love you” in his ear that has him reaching out instinctively, his fingers twisting in cool, empty sheets as the pathetic remains of his heart crumple into dust and blow away.

If only.


End file.
